I replied, “that the proscription of his name and family sounded in English ears as a very cruel and arbitrary law;” and having thus far soothed him, I resumed my propositions of obtaining military employment for himself, if he chose it, and his sons in foreign parts. MacGregor shook me very cordially by the hand, and detaining me, so as to permit Mr. Jarvie to precede us, a manœuvre for which the narrowness of the road served as an excuse, he said to me, “You are a kind-hearted and an honourable youth, and understand, doubtless, that which is due to the feelings of a man of honour.—But the heather that I have trod upon when living, must bloom ower me when I am dead—my heart would sink, and my arm would shrink and wither like fern in the frost, were I to lose sight of my native hills; nor has the world a scene that would console me for the loss of the rocks and cairns, wild as they are, that you see around us.—And Helen—what could become of her, were I to leave her the subject of new insult and atrocity?—or how could she bear to be removed from these scenes, where the remembrance of her wrongs is aye sweetened by the recollection of her revenge?—I was once so hard put at by my Great enemy, as I may well ca’ him, that I was forced e’en to gie way to the tide, and remove myself and my people and family from our dwellings in our native land, and to withdraw for a time into MacCallum More’s country—and Helen made a lament on our departure, as weel as MacRimmon¹ himsell could hae framed it—and so piteously sad and waesome, that our hearts amaist broke as we sate and listened to her—it was like the wailing of one that mourns for the mother that bore him—the tears came down the rough faces of our gillies as they hearkened—and I wad not have the same touch of heartbreak again, no, not to have all the lands that ever were owned by MacGregor.”

“But your sons,” I said, “they are at the age when your countrymen have usually no objection to see the world?”

“And I should be content,” he replied, “that they pushed their fortune in the French or Spanish service, as is the wont of Scottish cavaliers of honour, and last night your plan seemed feasible enough—But I hae seen his Excellency this morning before ye were up.”

“Did he then quarter so near us?” said I, my bosom throbbing with anxiety,

“Nearer than ye thought,” was MacGregor’s reply; “but he seemed rather in some shape to jalouse your speaking to the young leddy; and so you see—”

“There was no occasion for jealousy,” I answered, with some haughtiness; “I should not have intruded on his privacy.”

“But ye must not be offended, or look out from amang your curls then, like a wild-cat out of an ivy-tod, for ye are to understand that he wishes most sincere weel to you, and has proved it. And it’s partly that whilk has set the heather on fire e’en now.”

“Heather on fire?” said I. “I do not understand you.”

“Why,” resumed MacGregor, “ye ken weel eneugh that women and gear are at the bottom of a’ the mischief in this warld—I hae been misdoubting your cousin Rashleigh since ever he saw that he wasna to get Die Vernon for his marrow, and I think he took grudge at his Excellency mainly on that account. But then came the splore about the surrendering your papers—and we hae now gude evidence, that, sae soon as he was compelled to yield them up, he rade post to Stirling, and tauld the government all, and mair than all, that was gaun doucely on amang us hill-folk; and, doubtless, that was the way that the country was laid to take his Excellency and the leddy, and to make sic an unexpected raid on me. And I hae as little doubt that the poor deevil Morris, whom he could gar believe onything, was egged on by him, and some of the Lowland gentry, to trepan me in the gate he tried to do. But if Rashleigh Osbaldistone were baith the last and best of his name; and granting that he and I ever forgather again, the fiend go down my weasand with a bare blade at his belt, if we part before my dirk and his best bluid are weel acquainted thegither!”